


Swan Song

by TheoMiller



Series: The Great Supernatural Rewrite [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Michael and Lucifer die, Nephilim, Someone needs to avenge Gabriel, Swan Song Take 2, okay so maybe supernatural doesn't need another person with daddy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’d died trying to derail this apocalypse, even after millennia spent trying to flee from it, and left nothing behind but a video, a shadow, and a sword. Well, except for his three children. One was lost, another locked away, and the third was right there, throwing herself between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, armed with nothing but a sword she could hardly wield."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stull's Cemetary

Picture, if you will, two people: maybe they were childhood friends, or long time lovers, or siblings, or perhaps they had just been enemies for so long that they’d become something akin to friends. Neither one is evil, not really, but nor is either good. And there they stand at the brink of war. Like two trains rushing towards one another on the same track, it’s too late to stop and try to fix things. Even if both could slam on the brakes at that very second, they would still crash into one another, and the reluctance might make it even worse. Neither one stops.

And now imagine that the fate of the entire world rests on this. This instant, this fight, it’s the defining moment of everything. And neither one wants it. Both are simply too stubborn to say as much. So, caught up in their pride, the moment passes and this is the end of everything.

All of that momentum, all of that emotion, all rushing unstoppably towards one point. That’s the apocalypse, for you guys who are a bit behind the times.

But what was remarkable about this moment was not the two people—brothers, though people tend to forget as much—who stood poised for their long-awaited final fight. It was the people brave enough to stand right beside the train tracks, knowing what would happen, trying to derail it long past its chance.

And it was the one person crazy enough to stand between them. Not out of concern for the world or the people whose lives were caught up in it. Simply because of what a distant father wanted.

There are way too many distant fathers in this tale. But I’ll give you the story of the fourth just to clear things up.

The fourth father was the third brother. He’d died trying to derail this apocalypse, even after millennia spent trying to flee from it, and left nothing behind but a video, a shadow, and a sword. Well, except for his three children. One was lost, another locked away, and the third was right there, throwing herself between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, armed with nothing but a sword she could hardly wield.

So with this I bring you to Stull’s Cemetery, where Gabriel’s daughter stands between Lucifer, wearing Sam Winchester’s body, and Michael, wearing Adam Milligan’s. Ever defiant, the vessels’ third brother and his adopted father, entirely human, wait for the end of days with a steely look and classic human determination.

Castiel was so caught off guard by her appearance he didn’t even light the holy oil Molotov, which was a relief. She couldn’t spend time making it disappear, and she needed the archangels present for this.

“Long time no see,” She said.

Michael growled out, “Abomination.”

“I prefer Avella.”

“Hel,” Lucifer said coolly, eyes narrowing.

“I _prefer_ Avella. Wow, it’s like talking to a brick wall! Or Baldur. Look, I get that you’re pumped up for your celebrity death match. But I’m afraid it’s cancelled.”

Michael raised his hand, about to snap her into nonexistence, but she waggled a finger and a silver blade materialised. “My brothers are indisposed, so the handy-dandy archangel killing family heirloom goes to me,” She smirked.

“Back off, Nephilim.” Michael snarled.

“You see how Lucifer goes all quiet and dangerous when he’s pissed off, and you make dog noises? His way is much more effective.”

“This is not your fight,” Lucifer said. “When I win—”

“When?” Michael half-shrieked.

Avella shook her head. “Volume does not equal power.”

“When I win, I’ll give you a place,” Lucifer promised. “But if you do not desist—”

“You’ll do what?” Avella asked in a perfect mockery of politeness.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He said urgently.

“Is that what you told my father?” She raised an eyebrow. “You know, right before you killed him? Face it, Luci. You killed my father. You looked your own brother in the eyes and ran a sword through his chest. And then you pulled the blade up into his heart.”

“Gabriel was—”

Dean interrupted, “Wait, so she’s Gabriel’s kid? What?”

“Winchester!” Lucifer warned. “Stay out of this.”

“You are wearing his brother like a cheap prom dress,” Avella pointed out. “You too, Michael. Man, are you two similar! Not sure which of you I want dead more. Probably you, Mike—between that business when I was a kid, and this whole shindig with Zachariah. Really, you picked Zachariah, out of all the lieutenants in the omniverse?”

“What’d Michael do?” Bobby asked quietly.

“Uh, I believe he slaughtered the Nephilim,” Castiel answered. The archangels and the Halfling turned to stare at him. “Err. Sorry, you three continue.”

“Thanks,” Avella rolled her eyes.

“This is your final warning,” Michael said. “You are half angel. My… _niece_ , to use the human term. I do not wish to harm you either.”

She shrugged. “Shame it isn’t reciprocated. _You_ killed my kind. And _you_ killed my father. So here’s how I see it. You get the fuck over yourselves, go back to your respective homes—trust me, Lucifer, Hell isn’t that bad once you get use to it—and leave your vessels here, _alive_ ; or we have a three way showdown—Heaven and Hell against me. Guess I’m Earth.”

“You will be torn apart,” Lucifer hissed.

“There’s the 64 dollar question: _do I care?_ Hells no. So, tell me, _uncles_. Where’s the proper me?”

The two archangels looked puzzled, until two other copies of Avella appeared, all holding a sword. One was standing beside Michael, the other beside Lucifer, poised to kill.

“Hmm,” Avella said. “Well, this is a conundrum. Luci, thoughts?”

“It’s not really a mystery. You want Michael dead more,” He said, insouciant.

Michael glared. “I’m not the one who killed her father!”

“You killed her entire species.”

“The Nephilim were a danger to all. Clearly she and her siblings were immune to the insanity only because they were children of archangels. One of which you killed.”

“Gabriel tried to kill me. And he’s never really been father material, letting the pagans ship her off to run the gates of Hell. Plus that was just one life, against millions.”

“Gabriel was our brother!”

“I was his,” Lucifer said. “And I am yours. Yet you plan to kill me.”

The third Avella looked between them in interest, and the real Avella appeared, cloaked, beside Dean. “Don’t move, don’t make a noise, don’t think too loudly, don’t do a damned thing but listen and pretend I’m not here. I’m so sorry, Dean, but you knew this was coming. Uncurl your fist on your left side if you want Sam to live—”

His fingers were uncurling without a thought.

“—and your right side if you want Adam to live.”

He paused and clenched both hands. Then he opened his left one slowly.

She was gone, the faint sweeping sound of wings in his ears, and then all the other versions of her vanished. She ran the sword through Lucifer’s chest from behind while he was in mid-rant, and pulled the rings from his pockets, already chanting lowly.

“STOP!” Michael yelled, and knelt beside his brother. “I’m sorry,” He whispered.

Lucifer blinked at him in confusion, and then his lips curved upwards. “I’m sorry too.”

The blade slid into Michael’s heart without hesitation, and Lucifer’s head lolled back. Dean let out a strangled noise.

“I did not see that coming,” Avella admitted, looking down at the two dead archangels. “Well, Dean-o, Fate’s a fickle thing.”

“I will _kill_ you,” Dean said.

“Wake up,” Avella ordered the two corpses. “Come on, seriously, I hate doing the stupid forehead finger tap thing, it’s so very seraphim—no offence, Castiel.”

“Who’re you?” Sam mumbled, eyes opening slightly.

“What—” Dean said. “How?”

“I need a drink,” Avella replied, conjuring up a tissue for her nosebleed.

Bobby caught her with an exasperated huff as she passed out completely.

“Nephilim often had difficulty sustaining their abilities for long without ill effects,” Castiel said. “That amount of healing and the extensive illusions would tire her out.”

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Bobby growled.

Castiel cocked his head. “I—”

“Don’t understand that reference,” Dean and Bobby finished with him. “Yeah,” Dean said. “We know.”

“Wha…Dean?” Sam mumbled as he slowly propped himself up. “Guys, where’s Lucifer? Where’s Michael? What happened?”

“Gabriel’s weird kid saved us,” Dean explained shortly.

Adam stirred. Dean shot him a guilty look, but shifted Sam away from him all the same. “Sammy, are you hurt anywhere? Come on, is there anything wrong? You did just get stabbed with a sword.”

“I feel fine,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows slightly in surprise. “Better than I have in years.”

“That would be the healing,” Castiel nodded. “Your entire body shut down and was then brought back. I imagine it would feel like waking from a long rest.”

“Like rebooting a computer?” Sam asked.

The angel inclined his head. “Exactly.”

“Hey, Cas, can you heal her?” Dean asked.

He shrugged. “I’m running on empty. However, since Michael’s death has likely thrown Heaven into discord, I’m sure I could reconnect to the Host without ill effects. Will you be alright getting your brothers and Avella back to Bobby’s house without my aid?” He asked. 

“Sure, whatever. I think we can handle a pintsized chick between the four of us.”

Castiel nodded and vanished with a wingbeat.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes a mean PB&J and Avella is confused by Dean's questions.

Avella woke up on a bed with an uncomfortable crick in her neck and next to no juice leftover. “Least I know I’m not dead,” She mumbled to herself.

“How’s that?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and springs shifted in nearby furniture. She peeped through long lashes to see Lucifer’s vessel—Sam Winchester—leaning forward in a chair with elbows on knees, watching her.

“Reckon I wouldn’t notice oblivion, Heaven isn’t this uncomfortable, and Hell doesn’t have beds. I’d know, it was named after me.”

“Hel,” Sam said. “Yeah. Bobby was telling me about what I missed. I have to go let the others know you’re awake. And, um, don’t try to move too much.”

She glanced at the floor and groaned when she saw flames flickering there. “Hunters,” She said, like it was the worst word she knew. It was.

Five minutes later she had torn the bed from where it was welded to the floor and used it to smother the flames just long enough for her to walk over it. “Can I get a sandwich? And possibly a candy bar or two?”

“Only if you stop tearing apart my panic room,” Bobby grumbled from outside.

“Just leave it on the kitchen table. I should have enough juice for a teleport in… Oh, twenty three years,” She yawned. “Crap. If I promise to sit on the floor like a child and not move, will you bring me some food?”

“I’ll go in,” A low voice said. Avella cocked her head. That was Castiel, and even in her depleted state she could feel him thrumming with power. Irrational fury surged in her.

There was a slight clattering above as someone made food, yanking her out of the rage. She sat down cross-legged and closed her eyes to meditate; yesterday had been the first she’d seen of an angel besides Gabriel since the Grigori killed her brother. She didn’t want to harm Castiel out of misplaced anger.

“Avella,” His voice interrupted her meditation an indeterminate amount of time later. “Sam was not sure what you would eat, so he made you a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. Is this amenable to you?”

“You’re very young,” Avella said in surprise.

“My vessel—”

“No, I mean _you_. I’m older than I seem. One of the first Nephilim—Dad always liked humans, and well, he wasn’t one to turn down a willing partner regardless of species.”

“I know,” Castiel said, and set down the plate. “I was there.”

“Why are you still a fledgling?”

He looked confused. “What?”

“You haven’t been to Heaven,” She explained. “Well, not the angels’ part.”

“Uh… No, I haven’t. How do you know that?”

“Archangels are administration. They have to know other angels’ security clearance.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

He just looked so lost, standing there with head tilted and having never been home and the oversized trench coat and—“Dammit,” Avella said. “I’m going to get up very slowly, alright?”

When he nodded, she rose like a snake uncurling and stayed in place. “You can see that I’m unarmed and entirely powerless, yes?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, confused.

“Would it be alright if I approached you, very slowly, and gave you a hug?”

“You want… to hug me?”

“Well, yeah. Only if you’re alright with it.”

“I’ve never hugged anyone,” He said. “I might not be very good at it.”

She heard a muffled voice outside—Michael’s true vessel, the eldest Winchester brother. “What the hell?”

“It’s like a Lifetime move in there,” Bobby growled.

“I think it’s a very awkward family reunion,” Sam volunteered. “But dude, your angel’s never been hugged?”

Castiel appeared to ignore them, so Avella went with it and stepped forward, going around the plate on the floor until she was just a step away from him. He lifted his arms awkwardly, and she tucked herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Anyway…” Avella said when she stepped away. “Thanks for the sandwich. Where’s Adam? Is he alright?” She added as an afterthought.

“Adam is asleep upstairs,” Castiel reported.

“Then Dean can stop blaming himself for choosing Sammy over the guy that let Michael in? Excellent.”

“Alright, that’s it, it’s time for you to start explaining,” Dean said, bursting into the room.

Avella arched an eyebrow. “Clearly God likes you, because you all ought to be dead otherwise. Castiel, don’t let anyone you don’t entirely trust—namely the boys and Robert—hug you when your blade is in place. I could have the blade right now and could’ve killed you, and then there’s Dean bursting in here. Even without my power, I could’ve killed all of you. And I’m nowhere near the most dangerous person you lot have crossed.”

Castiel and Dean exchanged looks.

“So, what’d you want to ask?” She chirped happily, going to sit down next to her sandwich again.

“SAM!” Dean yelled. “Get in here, dude, we’re going to talk to her now.”

“I’m coming,” Sam replied.

After a moment or two, all three hunters and the angel were standing in a half-circle around her. She took a bite out of the sandwich and grinned. “Nice, Sammy, perfect PB to J ratio.”

“Don’t call me that,” He said.

“Sorry,” She shrugged. “Just rolls off the tongue.”

Dean cut right to the chase. “Why’d you help?”

“Um… Those jerkwads killed almost everyone I care about and I kind of like this little blue rock? I don’t understand the question.”

“So why the hell did you wait?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Hun, I’m Hel. I’m not exactly Lucifer’s biggest fan, but he didn’t destroy my kind and we’re kind of roommates, not to mention being family. Then he killed my father.”

“Why’d you stab me?” Sam said quietly.

“Oh,” Avella stopped eating. “That must’ve looked pretty bad. I, uh, didn’t actually stab you.”

“The hell you didn’t!” Dean snapped.

Bobby held out an arm to keep him from storming forward. “Hear her out, ya idjit.”

“I stabbed _Lucifer_. It’s hard to explain to humans, but an archangel’s sword is not really corporeal. So healing you up was simple.”

“Why’d you make me choose?” Dean said.

Sam looked between them. “Choose what?”

“Which brother would live,” She explained shortly. “He chose you, so I stabbed Lucifer.”

“And Lucifer stabbed Michael,” Castiel mused. “What would you have done otherwise?”

“Well, the plan was to throw Michael into the Cage, but I guess I should’ve known he’d stop to grieve. They’re so bloody daft, those two. He’s there to kill his brother, and then wants to cry over him when he does die? Ugh.”

“Get him in the cage how?” Bobby asked.

She shrugged. “I was thinking of tackling him.”

“But you’d fall in too,” Castiel said.

“Me, Michael, and Adam,” Avella said. “Sounds like an interesting way to spend an eternity. Reckon we could play cards.”

“Why?”

Avella turned and stared at Sam. “Pardon?”

“You could’ve just pushed us both in,” He said. “Why would you risk your life?”

She huffed and set down the last of the sandwich. “My brother, Fenrir, is bound beneath the roots of the Tree of Life. If he breaks free, Ragnorak—the apocalypse—will begin. I can’t save my own brother without destroying the world. But one day, provided no other apocalypse comes first, he’ll get out anyway. I guess you could say I can empathise with your situation.”

Terse silence fell. Before anyone could formulate a way to reply, the door creaked. “Uh… I think I owe you guys an apology,” Adam said, poking his head around the door.

“We’ve had enough chick flick moments,” Dean said.

The words _I’m sorry I chose Sammy over you_ and _I’m sorry I chose Michael over both of you_ went unsaid. And this little group—the righteous man, the boy with demon blood, the lost half-brother, the tough old drunk, the rebellious angel, and the surviving Nephilim—was nowhere near the end of their story, but for a moment they stood in silence to mark the end of the apocalypse.

Well, one apocalypse.


End file.
